


Like Those Crazy Kids Down the Lane

by Seeker



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 00:25:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/855680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seeker/pseuds/Seeker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The first time Stiles finally encountered Cora Hale was when she was wolfed out, half naked in tattered clothing, and clearly very feral.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He stared.</i>
</p><p>Or</p><p>In which Stiles and Cora become the sassiest of best friends, Jackson is Captain of the Sterek ship, Isaac is clueless, Boyd is trying to find inner peace, Scott is a puppy, Allison bakes, Lydia is a BAMF!, Danny's getting his 'groove' on, and Derek is just Mr. McAngrypants.</p><p>Oh, and don't forget about the virgin sacrifices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Those Crazy Kids Down the Lane

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. I word vomited this out in one day. I apologize for the grammar errors, spelling mistakes, bad OOCness, and random word vomit. I'm really sorry. I promise I will soon go back and revise/edit! On my honor!

The first time Stiles finally encountered Cora Hale was when she was wolfed out, half naked in tattered clothes, and clearly very feral.

He stared.

She stared back, golden eyes bright and creepily hypnotic, face blank, yet strangely hungry.

Stiles wanted to rub his eyes, to check again if he was hallucinating from all the ‘virgin sacrificing mess’ stress, but as he raised the fist, the werewolf girl snarled, sound low and menacingly dangerous.

He gulped. Yep. Not a hallucination. 

He glanced up, not moving his head but his eyes, and he knew she was tracking the movement of his sight, to the waning moon. 

It’s not a full moon, so what even was she…

He swiveled back to stare at the unfamiliar werewolf, because dammit, he had never seen her before in his life because hot damn, she was kind of hot, even when in a transformed state, not like Lydia, but still, and either way he was distracting himself-- was she part of the Alpha Pack?? But no, because her eyes were gold, so she was what-- an beta? Omega? Fuck werewolf dynamics-hierarchy bullshit, he was about to quit this mind fuckery and skedaddle but nooo Scott was his best friend who was a werewolf for God’s sakes, and he can’t just leave his bro stranded, no matter how much said bro irks him at times, but -- dammit! There he goes mind rambling again, because he was so stressed and tired, but in conclusion, strange-attractive-half-naked-werewolf chick was not an alpha, as alphas have creepy-ass red laser beams for eyeballs. Yeah. Point made.

He totally needed more sleep, for he did not deserve half of the werewolf freaky bullshit, thank you very much.

Unknown werewolf chick growled warningly at him again, bringing Stiles out from his depressing thoughts.

Well. First things first. Better somehow subdue werewolf girl from killing anyone (he inconspicuously checked for bloodstains on her form from a distance to see if there was evidence of ripped open human being. He found none, thank god.). But how? He couldn’t run to the Jeep in time, and he didn’t have his cell on his person (he really wanted to face palm. The one time he was in major jeopardy and he had no one to contact for help.). So the only option to think of trapping her was…his house. God damn it. 

“Fuck my life,” Stiles muttered, and unknown wolf girl growled, shifting menacingly on her feet. He smiled weakly, thinking of anywhere that would be reasonable to lock her up. “Er, hi?” He greeted, raising a hand to wave. “How’s the weather tonight? Perfect for munching on teenage boys, right? Yeah, we’re delicious--” He began slowly moving backwards in the door. “But you see, I’m not like other teenage boys. I am tantalizing, amazing, better than the appetizer those other boys have to offer, like Danny, he is totally the appetizer--”

The werewolf girl’s eyes widened and she roared, the noise echoing alarmingly throughout the area. She lunged, charging straight at Stiles. 

Stiles squawked (un)manly-like and backpedaled, turning on heel and rushing in his house as he screamed back, “Okay I lied! I’m the appetizer! Danny’s the main course!”

He sprinted up the stairs, taking two at a time, not looking back as the feral girl plowed through the front door, snarling and growling, her heavy footfalls following him slowly, knowing her prey was trapped and couldn’t escape.

He reached the top, glancing quickly and wildly around, before noticing the bathroom door open ajar.

Aha. Bathroom: had no windows inside, can be locked from the outside with a key, and hey! He had the key in his pocket instead of his phone, woe be irony, and all the bathroom had inside was the shower and general plumbing and cabinets. Now, how to incapacitate her enough that she wouldn’t just bust down the door and kill him outright?

Something familiar caught his interest and he pounced on it, hearing the girl get closer. He shrugged out of his plaid shirt, dropping it to the floor. Hope she liked his inadvertent strip tease as he dashed, determined to make his screwed up plan succeed.

Wolf girl appeared on top of the stairs, pausing. She sniffed, and glanced down, noticing the trail of clothing, her prey’s scent heavy and teasing, edging her to track him down and rip him to shreds. She growled, following the trail of clothing and deep, musky scent.

The werewolf stalked near the restroom, hearing quick, frightened heartbeats from the inside. She felt gleeful, fingers itching to rip, to tear, to destroy. She leaped into the bathroom, howling in triumph--

And nothing greeted her back.

Werewolf girl hesitated, confused.

“I don’t usually do this to girls,” Stiles said, stepping from behind the bathroom door. He glared. “But you aren’t the typical girl.” And he swung the bat hidden behind his back, sports tool hitting her squarely in her transformed face.

She made a pained noise, nose obviously crooked and broken, eyes rolling in a daze, but still very conscious.

Stiles winced. “Sorry,” he said, before swinging the bat again and catching her directly on the temple. 

Werewolf girl collapsed with a whimper, blacking out.

Six hours later, Stiles was just about to doze off, sitting in the hallway while leaning against the bathroom door, sunlight shining in through the window at the end of the hall, when he heard a human-sounding girl moan in pain.

He twitched to attention, senses on high alert.

“Urghhhmg,” the girl voiced her discontent once again, and he could hear her beginning to move, clothes rustling slightly.

He coughed suddenly, and the movement stopped.

Both waited.

Stiles blinked, then took a breath. “Er,” he said, clearing his throat nervously. “Well, you, uh, okay?”

The girl snorted sourly. “I feel as if I’ve had the worst hangover in my entire life,” was her response.

“Guess that’s a no,” Stiles said, laughing a tad bit awkwardly. He rubbed the back of his neck. “You kinda did have a baseball bat smash you in the face…”

“Wait,” the werewolf girl said, “What.” A pause before she snarled, “Oh my god, oh fuck you.” Rustling noises. “You broke my nose!” After that was stated, an audible ‘crack’ sounded, and she yelped, making Stiles deduced that, even though her werewolf healing factor was pretty over the top, she had to manually break her nose once again to set the bone correctly. 

“You okay?” He asked, fingers thrumming the wooden floors anxiously.

“Never better,” she growled.

Stiles laughed, getting steadily more nervous. “Yeah, I’m honestly sorry about that,” he said, sounding quite sheepish. “But you were pretty much wild, and uh, very intent on ripping out my delicate guts. So. Yeah.”

Silence. Then…

“Sorry for last night,” she said, and he heard her moving to sit up, voice soft. She sounded…guilt-ridden and miserable.

Stiles's heart clenched.

“It’s okay,” he said, shrugging. “My best friend, when he just got turned into a werewolf, was like you at the time, out of control and angry.” A humorless laugh. “You could say I’m kind of use to it by now.”

It’s as if he could see her slump, leaning against the cabinet next to the toilet, feeling guilty and horrid. “But the thing is,” she said, tone bitter, “I’m not a ‘just-turned’ werewolf. I’m a natural, full-born werewolf. And I…lost control. Again. And tried to kill someone. Again.” He heard a choked noise. “I’m a disgrace as a werewolf.”

Stiles was silent, before whispering, “Nah, there must’ve been a reason you lost it like that.” A pause. “Well, let’s quickly change the subject. Do you, erm, need some clothing?” He asked, remembering her tattered pants, underwear showing, and bra unhooked, showing off…assets. His face flushed and he dropped his head in his hands, mortified.

“Oh god,” she said, “Yes. Please.”

“Okey doke,” he said, getting off from the floor. “Good thing my dad is still out, or else things would get awkward if he found you locked in my bathroom, so, I’m just going to get the clothes now, okay?”

“Yeah,” she answered, and an audible bang came, as if she had banged her head against the door.

“Please don’t destroy my bathroom,” Stiles begged, before rushing off into his room.

Few minutes later, Stiles returned, clothing in arms. He knocked on the bathroom door gingerly, wary of her reaction.

“I got the clothes,” he called out, waving said garments in emphasis. “They’re not girl clothes, and I don’t have a bra because, well, I have nothing to hold in it, but basically I’m asking you not to rip me apart when I open this door because I have clothes and I will make breakfast. Promise.”

“Just open the door and hand them over,” the girl said, sounding exasperatedly amused. “I won’t kill you, I promise. And don’t forget to make coffee.”

An unwilling grin grew on Stiles’s face, charmed by the sass. He drew out the key and unlocked the door, opening it just a crack and handing over his load. Hands took it and he extracted himself out, closing the entry way.

Fifteen minutes later, eggs were frying, and Stiles was just setting the table and pouring juice when the unknown werewolf appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, seeming a bit more clean and presentable, despite looking a bit strange in his baggy plaid clothes.

Stiles paused, orange juice halting.

The girl was really pretty, he thought, even more so when she wasn’t transformed into a bloodthirsty werewolf intent on tearing a hole in his chest. She looked to be around his age, had long dark hair, equally dark, piercing eyes, pale skin, and a serious expression on her face. All in all, she really reminded him of someone…who was broody and doom and gloom, someone who fully utilize the ultimate eyebrow duo endearingly named ‘McFrown’ and ‘McGlare‘. Someone who was Derek Hale.

Stiles snorted a laugh, making her furrow her face in confusion. She really did look a bit like Derek.

“Hey,” Stiles finally said, smiling as he set the orange juice down. He held out a hand. “I think we can agree that we both started off on the wrong foot last night, so to speak, soooo, let’s start over with introductions and breakfast. My name is Stiles Stilinski.”

The girl finally gave a wane smile. She walked forward, reaching to grasp his hand in a firm yet gentle shake, saying, “Hi, my name is Cora Hale.” 

Stiles’s jaw dropped. “Uh. What.”

Cora frowned, pulling away. “Is…Is something wrong?”

“Hale?” Stiles croaked, feeling a bit…overwhelmed. Didn’t the Hale family all died in the fire? Besides Derek, Peter, and the now deceased Laura. “Uh… Hale?”

“Yes,” she said, still looking a bit puzzled. Then something flickered in her expression. “Cora Hale. I’m related to Derek.” She gave a shrug. “I’m his younger sister.”

“Oh,” was all Stiles could say, suddenly feeling a bit dizzy with this new revelation. 

Derek had a younger sister? He gave her a quick inconspicuous look again. And a pretty younger sister to boot. Wow.

“Is that a problem?” Cora asked, looking a little defensive now, hands twitching as if she was debating on whether or not she should flee or just kill Stiles right then and now.

“No, no!” Stiles exclaimed, waving his hands. Then the smell of eggs registered in his brain again and he panicked, flying over to the stove. After saving the meager poultry and setting it on plates, beginning to prepare the bacon, he shrugged and turned back, looking Cora in the eye. “I just.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t know Derek had a younger sister. Or any other surviving familial relatives, besides Peter and Laura.”

Cora’s eyes brightened. “Laura?” She whispered.

Stiles’s stomach lurched. “I hate to break the news,” he said softly, awkwardly. He took a breath. “But Laura’s…dead.”

Cora froze. “How.” She said, tone cold, eyes dark.

Stiles’s throat closed up, but he managed to force himself to speak. “It’s not my story to tell. You’ll have to ask Derek and Peter.” He paused. “Wait, you haven’t seen Derek or Peter, yet?”

Cora still looked haunted, as if about to cry, but she stood firm, jaw clenched and nodded. “Yeah. I saw them.” She then switched to looking sheepish. “It’s a long story. But… you’re friends with some guy named Scott McCall, yeah?”

Stiles made an affirmative noise, looking a bit more interested. “Yeah, he’s the best friend I told you about earlier, the turned one. What about him?”

She looked a bit uncomfortable. “So you know all of the incidents with him lately, right? Like, a few nights ago, at the Beacon Hills abandoned bank?”

Stiles opened his mouth but then closed it, remembering that he was with Scott but then having to sidetrack and help Lydia, and then the bodies, and Heather, and virgin sacrifices and-- what in the fuck. It’s been what, two days? And Scott, his best friend since childhood, didn’t tell him jack squat? Well, sure, the two have been busy, with Scott doing his ‘James Bond wolfy things’ and Stiles looking in the ‘virgin sacrifices’ case, but still. 

“He never mentioned you,” was all Stiles finally said, eyeballing Cora.

She shrugged. “I was in the cell with Boyd. We were stuck down there for god knows how long, not able to transform because the moon was blocked from us. When Scott and Derek came to rescue us, the moonlight shone in and we went berserk.” She shuddered, grim. “We couldn’t control ourselves.” She glanced up again. “Derek finally managed to subdue us, and Isaac and Scott dragged us back to his hideout. Even though the moon wasn’t full anymore, we still… we still felt out of control. Trapped. So we continued to transform and rampaged. It’s like--” she barked out a laugh. “-- it’s like we were trying to make up for the times we couldn’t transform.” She sobered again, pulling out a chair and sinking into it. “Losing control.”

Stiles slowly nodded, retrieving the bacon from the pan and placing it in respective plates. He set the plate in front of her, motioned for her to eat, and went to acquire the coffee cups, the heady smell of coffee perfuming the kitchen warmly.

“So,” he said, after sitting down as well and eating. “What brought you here last night?”

She grinned wryly. “Derek tried to tie us down, to not let us escape. I, however, was a little bit more smart than that, and managed to escape. So I just ran.” She shrugged. “I did a pretty swell job of hiding my tracks and scent, too, despite having been a raging rabid wolf at the time. And then I saw you. You can figure out what happened after that.” Another grin, more awkward this time.

“Hey, I didn’t die, and the only casualty was your broken nose. I think I’m awesome,” he said, winking jokingly. 

Cora rolled her eyes. “There won’t be next time like that, Stilinski.” She took a vicious bite out of the bacon before leaning forward, looking inquisitive. “So, how do you know my brother, Derek?”

Stiles took a sip of coffee. “Long story,” was all he could say, making a face. “Maybe I’ll tell you next time.”

Cora looked at him, curious. “You sound a little…angry at him.”

“Not angry, per say,” Stiles answered, setting the cup down. “More like he and I aren’t on the best of terms since day one we met.” He shrugged. “He’s a sour wolf.”

Cora’s mouth twitched for a few seconds before she burst into laughter, smile wide, and laugh loud. Wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, she managed to gasp, “S-sour wolf? Really?”

Stiles tried to look indignant, he really did, but before long, he broke out into a grin as well. “Yeah, sour wolf. It’s not my fault! He’s a jerk! The first time we ‘properly’ (with sarcastic hand motions) met, was when he totally creeped into my room by a window, like Edward Cullen, and slammed me against the wall, threatening me.” He snickered. “I got him back by pimping him out to a gay hacker, so kudos to me, man.” He began counting on his fingers. “And don’t exclude the times where he almost made me lop off his arm with a saw, he slammed my head into the steering wheel, and that one time where I had to hold him up in the water for two hours because he got paralyzed by a freaky lizard monster with paralytic poison.”

“Oh, my god,” Cora laughed even harder, slumping to rest her head on the kitchen table. “Stiles-- we really need to talk one day about all that’s happened.”

He shot her a thumbs up. “I am here of service, madam.”

Cora smiled in response before standing to place her plate and cup in the sink. She stood to the side, now looking shy instead of serious, cheeks flushed. She really looked pretty.

“I’m really sorry for all that I did,” Cora apologized, shifting side to side before looking up to gaze squarely in his eyes. “And I’m sorry for causing so much trouble and eating your food and wearing your clothes--”

“No worries,” Stiles interrupted, waving a nonchalant hand. “Scott was worse than you back then, honestly, so it’s okay. Like I said, I’m use to it, and I’m always glad to help out people. Okay?”

“Okay,” Cora said, smiling. “I have to go, sorry for not staying around a bit longer, but Derek’s probably worried himself sick, and well, I’ll return your clothes, I promise.” 

“Shoo, shoo,” was Stiles’s response, and he gestured toward the front door.

With another grin, she quickly turned and sprinted out the door, soon becoming a blur in the distance.

Stiles continued smiling as he went to wash the dishes, heart feeling a bit light and less lonely.

He was still smiling a bit dopily (also, if he really thought back on it, he was probably still very tired. Staying up for more than half the night can do that.) when he arrived at school, happy and content when a familiar voice rang out.

“Stilinski.”

Stiles froze before slowly turning, making a face as he said in obvious distaste. “Jackson.”

Jackson Whittmore stood arrogantly, looking condescendingly down his nose at Stiles. Yet, something was a little different…the look in his eyes seemed a bit more soft, less bitter. Well, Stiles inwardly shrugged, when you got stabbed by the power of human love because you were a crazy Teenage Ninja Lizard, and then got resurrected as a newly made and proper beta wolf complete with pretty blue eyes, anyone can get a bit soft and less bitter.

“I thought you moved to London,” Stiles said, beginning to walk away.

Jackson fell into step beside him, form proud and handsome. “Yeah, well, obviously I moved back, dumbass.”

Stiles frowned. “Don’t make me bust out the wolfs bane dust.” He was totally fibbing, of course, but maybe he should actually invest in obtaining wolfs bane…

Jackson made a face. “Okay, okay, I was just joking, Jesus.” He shrugged his bag onto the other shoulder. “And I came back because London couldn’t take the awesome me.”

“Yeah, and I bet your Dad and Mom couldn’t take any more of your whining so they moved back here,” Stiles retorted.

Jackson visibly winced, looking disgruntled. “Shut up, Stilinski.” He hesitated, appearing unsure. “How’s…how’s Lydia.”

Stiles didn’t answer, but he glanced quickly, seeing how seemingly worried and genuinely concerned he looked for the strawberry blonde, and Stiles could relate, because he knew what love was and is, and well, the two loved and still love each other.

But he’s not going to give Jackson Whittmore the satisfaction of answering him truthfully.

“She’s totally moved on,” Stiles said, and hey, it wasn’t exactly untrue! Lydia was totally hitting on the new twins, despite using them for distractions, Allison said so.

Jackson actually looked like he got punched in the balls and stabbed with a spork to the face. Stiles felt a bit bad, but not bad enough to take back what he said.

“Well….” was all Jackson could say.

Stiles walked into English, Jackson tailing behind him closely. He was steadily getting annoyed.

“Okay, don’t you have better things to do than to follow me?” Stiles snapped, slamming his things down in his seat. 

Jackson finally looked amused. “I can’t help it if I have this class as well, Stilinski.”

“Oh,” was all Stiles could say, flabbergasted. He proceeded to take out his books when suddenly, Jackson spoke up again.

“So,” Jackson said, attempting conversation (and what the ever loving fuck-- he had never wanted to talk to Stiles before so why now? Is the world ending? Or is it karma?). He crossed his arms. “…I got a tumblr. My London friends introduced me to it.”

Stiles paused, raising an eyebrow. “You did? Well, good for you. But I don’t have a tumblr, so yep, can’t follow you, buddy.” He reached over and patted Jackson on the arm reassuringly. “Not that I would want to.” Jackson growled, eyes quickly flashing to bright blue, and Stiles quickly retracted his appendage.

“I don’t need followers,” Jackson huffed, “I got enough of those already.” He leaned forward, an intent look in his eyes that made Stiles pretty wary. “But they follow me because of the ships.”

“The what?” Stiles said.

“Ships,” Jackson said, as if that made sense, and maybe in that pretty blonde and stupid head of his, it did. Jackson cleared his throat. “You know, ships. Like pairings. And stuff. I took pictures, and people just…loved it. They asked for more.”

Stiles was confused. “Okay? Do I look like I give a damn, Jackson?”

“Pairings,” Jackson kept on speaking, ignoring Stiles entirely. “Like two people who have the potential to be romantically involved or are already involved.” He eyeballed Stiles. “Like Scott and Allison. Their ship name I dub, the ‘Scallison.’”

“That sounds like some kind of exotic fish disease,” was all Stiles could say.

“Me and Lydia, or Jackson and Lydia,” Jackson continued. “Dubbed, the ‘Jydia’.”

“What is this,” Stiles groaned, wanting to throttle the buffer teen. “Eighties gone wrong?”

Jackson plowed on. “Scott and Isaac, the ‘Scisaac’ (“Oh, my god, Scott is going to cry when he hears you paired him up with Isaac, they are like, werebros, man, and the pairing name sounds like some pool move.”). Boyd and Erica, the ‘Berica’ (“Uh…About Erica…”). And…” Jackson hesitated, something of a manic gleam in his eye. 

Stiles backed away just a teeny bit.

“Do you know Sterek?” Jackson asked, intent. 

“I don’t think I want to,” Stiles said. “Hey look, class is almost starting, go away!”

Jackson ignored him. “Sterek. I am the captain of that ship.”

“You’re scaring me, man,” Stiles said, beginning to plead. “Please. Go away.”

“It’s you,” Jackson said, grinning. “I don’t understand why everyone likes it, but it got me the followers, Stilinski.”

“Me?” Stiles sputtered, forgetting to tell Jackson to fuck off. “What about me? What is Sterek? What, what?”

Jackson smiled, feral and dangerous. He leaned close, and whispered in his ear. “Sterek. Stiles and Derek.”

Stiles didn’t know whether to be mortified or flattered that Jackson got the majority of followers by using Sterek, but what the actual fuck.

“What the actual fuck,” was all Stiles could voice, staring at Jackson.

Jackson smirked. “Amazed, dumbass?”

“Yes,” Stiles nodded slowly. “I am amazed at how low you have fallen, having to resort to blogging on tumblr to feel alive in this cruel, cruel world.”

Jackson’s smirk fell. “You were always a snotty little shit, why do I talk to you?”

“Because you cannot stay away from my attractiveness,” Stiles shot back, sitting down. “Now go to the front of the room so the teacher can introduce you and seat you far from me.”

“I need pictures of you and Derek, Stilinski,” Jackson said, towering menacingly over Stiles.

“I will not give you my nudes,” Stiles said, feeling quite disturbed. “And not with Derek. No, wait, you said you got pictures, where did you get pictures of the ‘pairings’ in the first place?!”

Jackson shrugged, picking up his bag and beginning to stride away to the front of the room. “Matt’s camera fell into my hands. And don’t think I’ll forget about getting those pictures, Stilinski.”

Scott proceeded to stroll in, looking equally panicked and happy, strangely enough.

“Stiles!” his bro exclaimed, “Allison talked to me again! But Derek’s sister, Cora Hale, oh wait, you don’t know about her exactly, do you? Either way, believe it or not, Derek has another sister-- a younger sister-- who had gone missing. So keep an eye out for dark haired girls running around,” he leaned closer to hiss. “Werewolf girls, Stiles.”

Stiles let his head fall on top of the desk.

Why is this his life in the first place?

Stiles managed to escape from the majority of classes, intent on fleeing to the sports field to eat lunch there, as he felt overwhelmed and such, because being a normal teenager with werewolf issues was hard, and nobody understands.

Just as he was about to round the corner of the school in view of the field, arms sprang out of nowhere, grabbed him by the shirt collar, and proceeded to slam him against a wall.

Stiles blinked, jarred from impact.

“This seems familiar,” Stiles said as he stared into Derek’s disgruntled face. “I don’t think I like this.”

“Stay away from her,” Derek said, glaring, reintroducing McFrown and McGlare to Stiles once again. “Don’t even go near her.”

“What are you talking about,” Stiles asked, but he knew what the other was intending to say, if that look of brotherly concern (what was he even talking about, he knew jack squat of ‘brotherly concern’, though, if it came down to it, Derek would be the poster child for it because, whoa, intense glare of ‘Get Near My Little Sister And Die In A Gruesome Way’ was actually a bit unnerving.) on Derek’s face screamed the answer, he wasn’t sure what would.

“Cora,” was all Derek said, clenching on his shirt tighter and pressing him a bit more into the wall. “Stay away from my sister.”

“Hey, hey now,” Stiles tried to say, flailing a little bit. “I did not go seek her out. I didn’t even knew she existed until she tried to disembowel me last night on my front lawn!”

“She’s wearing your clothes,” Derek hissed.

“Because her clothes were in tatters! She was about to run around some more in her birthday suit! Did you want your youngest sister running around in her birthday suit? Do you? You do?”

“That’s not the point, just stay away from her.”

“How could I last night when she invaded my house?!”

“You broke her nose!”

“Self-defense, man! Superpower-toting, freaking healing-factor, glowy eyes bullshit Werewolf vs. human with baseball bat and the element of surprise is fair! She was trying to kill me.”

A quick flash and a small clicking sound distracted the two from their bickering.

Jackson stood there, smug look on his face as he lowered the camera. “You two carry on,” he said innocently. “I don’t mind.”

Isaac stood next to him, having the gall to look embarrassed. “I tried to stop him,” he explained.

Derek’s face twisted. “What?”

“Jackson has gotten into the bad addiction known as tumblr. Please, stop him,” Stiles said as way of explanation.

Derek of course ignored him and dropped him to the ground, stalking near the other two teens. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?” He demanded, crossing his arms impressively.

Jackson shrugged. “I was going to, but I thought, hey! Surprise, surprise! And,” he lowered his voice into a whisper, “I heard about the Alpha pack. The less they know of me is better, until I come into the full picture.”

Stiles would feel more proud of how smart Jackson could be if the latter would let go of the camera.

Derek snorted in disgust. “Come by later for the full information.” He swiveled, giving Stiles the stink eye. “Come near my sister again and I’ll rip out your throat--”

“With your teeth, right,” Stiles said, yawning.

Derek glared at him more intensely and Stiles floundered, covering his yawns, “It’s not my fault! I stayed up all night guarding your sister in the bathroom!”

“What?” Isaac said, looking appalled. 

“Long story,” Stiles sighed.

With a snort, Derek stalked away, and all that was left of the scenario were three teenage boys standing (well, in Stiles’s case, sitting) around.

“So, you saw his sister naked?” Isaac asked, looking a bit more than interested.

Stiles blanched. “Half- naked,” he corrected, reaching out to accept Isaac’s offered hand to help him up. “She was half-naked, not naked. She was in Hulk!wolf smash!mode. It was not exactly the most pleasant of nights.”

Isaac grinned and yanked him up, Stiles stumbling a little bit and holding onto the former’s shoulders for stability.

Another camera flash and a low whistle attracted the two’s attention.

“Yes,” Jackson said, “Perfect. Now, what to call this new ship?”

“No,” Isaac and Stiles both said, glaring.

Stiles managed to get back into sixth period in time before the bell rang, having had to rush his lunch by cramming his sandwich in mouth and nearly dying from embarrassment as he choked, Isaac having almost performed the Heimlich maneuver on him.

“Jesus, Stiles,” Lydia said, frowning at him disdainfully. “Wipe your mouth. There are crumbs everywhere.”

“Sorry,” he said, brushing his mouth as daintily as he could with his jacket covered arm. He paused. “So, you’ve heard about Jack--”

“He comes near me and I will cut him,” she promised, face twisted in fury before smoothing out and becoming the popular teenage beauty. She reached in her bag and retrieved the lipstick, popping the cap off and quickly applying it on her lips efficiently.

Stiles winced. “I thought you loved him,” he said, feeling a little sorry for Jackson.

Lydia sighed as if Stiles was the stupidest boy in the world (which in her mind, yeah, he probably was.). “I do,” she finally said, putting the cap back on the lipstick. She smacked her lips, smoothing out the paint. “But he left me. He doesn’t deserve anything from me. At least, not yet, anyway.” She shrugged and flipped her strawberry blonde hair over a shoulder. “Let him suffer.”

“I think I like this plan,” Stiles said, still peeved over Jackson’s creepy as hell tumblr--mission fixation. “He’s gone nuts.”

Lydia smirked, leaning in closer. “So, I’ve been hearing things lately, but what exactly are your thoughts on Sterek?”

Stiles groaned, having the intense urge to sleep. No wonder those two were meant for each other, they were both just plain evil.

He nearly had a heart attack when he found Cora sitting languidly on his bed, waving at him when he came in the door.

“Sweet Mother of Jesus,” Stiles wheezed, clutching his chest. “I had one Hale sneak into my house, I don’t need another!”

“But where’s the fun in that?” Cora asked, raising a fine eyebrow. She nodded at the folded clothes on his bed. “As I promised, I brought them back.”

Stiles shook his head, setting his bag down and wheeling out the rolling chair before seating himself. “You didn’t have to bring them back right away, I didn’t mind.”

Cora shrugged. “It was also an excuse,” she said, “I couldn’t…take staying there.” 

With them, were her unspoken words.

Stiles nodded. “That bad?” he asked, standing up once again, venturing out into the hall, downstairs to the kitchen.

“It wasn’t bad, per say,” Cora said, following him curiously. “It was just. Uncomfortable. If that makes sense.”

“’Course it does,” Stiles said, reaching the refrigerator and opening it, taking out some sodas and tossing one to the werewolf girl. He closed the door, popping the can open. “I mean, newly found brother and uncle in one go all nice and pretty in some shady place. Oh yes, very comfortable.” He snorted. “Right.” 

Cora laughed, smiling at him fondly as he took a swig of the sweet, carbonated drink. Glancing at her face, at the tired lines and bags near and under her eyes, Stiles figured that she didn’t laugh or smile often, and felt happy that at least here, she could, kind of.

“So, why else are you here besides the need to escape?” He questioned, deciding to relocate to the living room to seat himself on the couch.

“That was the sole reason,” Cora said, following him before growing quiet. “And you seem really nice. Safe. And funny. It’s a relief from the usual…”

“Shit?” Stiles offered, making Cora nod. “Don’t you have any friends here?”

“I use to,” she said, fidgeting with soda slowly. “But most of them moved or don’t remember me anymore.” She gave a wry grin. “I did run off, you know. After the fire.”

Stiles was itching to ask how’d she escape the flames, the hunters, but seeing how haunted her eyes looked, he refrained. Instead, he asked, “Where did you go?”

“Anywhere and everywhere,” Cora said, jumping on the chance of slight subject change. She beamed. “Want me to regale you with stories of my travels?”

“Yes, please, Cora the Explorer,” Stiles said, cracking up at the werewolf’s scandalized look. “Oh, come on you set yourself up for that one. Cora, Cora, Cora the Explorer!” He flung out his arms to indicate further on his singing.

Cora punched him gently (in werewolf standards, but ouch) and huffed, before leaning back and telling him of how she had gone to Arizona, Mexico, Maine, all over…

Three hours had passed before Cora decided to stop, having noticed that Stiles was just about to pass out in sleep.

“Sorry,” she said, sounding sheepish. “I forgot that I kept you up all night. I’ll leave now.”

“M’no, stay, tell me more,” Stiles slurred sleepily, reaching out, because he couldn’t help himself. He was lonely and Scott was now too busy with werewolf business and Isaac, even though that boy was one of the nicest yet scariest person he had ever met, he had to bitterly agree that the dude was stealing Scott away from him. It made Stiles feel ashamed and selfish to even think a thought, because hey! Isaac had a crappy childhood, was an orphan, so Stiles should totally be okay with Isaac taking Scott away for a bit, but Scott was his, first, and it hurts to let go. It hurts being alone, when his mom was gone, and his dad working, and now Scott’s gone, too.

“You’re… you’re lonely, too?” Cora whispered, eyes wide.

Stiles wanted to say no, didn’t want to reveal weakness, but damn it, he must’ve been more tired than he previously thought because he whispered back, “Yes.”

Cora nodded before sitting back down, shifting closer until both their elbows and knees were touching. “Okay,” she said, leaning back and watching him. “I’ll stay a little while.”

“Tell me more stories, Cora,” was all Stiles could muster the strength to say, eyes already falling shut, and he began to drift off to the sound of Derek’s sister telling her tales around the states and how she survived…

The next day, Stiles woke up, feeling groggy and sore as he noticed that it was daylight. 

Then, he remembered that he asked Cora to stay and he groaned, grabbing the couch’s pillow in an attempt to suffocate himself from the humiliation. 

His dad then proceeded to choose that moment to stick his head in the doorway of the kitchen, eyebrow raised. “You all right there, son?”

“Never better,” Stiles muttered, tossing the pillow to the side and standing, making a pained noise as his back popped. “A start to a new day for me.”

The moment he arrived to school, Stiles knew something was up. He just couldn’t put his finger on it yet.

He finally figured it out when one Cora Hale sat in his English class, grinning smugly.

“What,” Stiles said, staring at her incredulously.

Cora rolled her eyes. “I love how you say hello, Stiles,” she said, turning her nose upwards in faux disdain.

Stiles snorted. “It’s an striking way to say hello, but seriously, what?”

“Honestly,” Cora sniffed. “Isn’t it obvious? I enrolled into Beacon High School today.” She grinned as she leaned forward, slinging a friendly arm around his shoulders. “Duh.”

Stiles could feel his jaw drop. “Say wha--”

Scott chose that moment to barge in.

“Stiles! Have you heard! Derek’s pissed off, because Cora’s missing! I know you haven’t seen her, but--” Scott paused, eyes wide as he took in Cora’s smug form and arm around Stiles. He blinked. “Stiles…” he said, sounding a little hurt. “I thought we were friends.”

Stiles promptly proceeded to face palm. “If only you knew, Scott,” he said, a tad bit sourly, words unheard as at that particular moment, Isaac walked up, grinning as he tapped Scott on the shoulder and engaged the darker skinned werewolf in conversation, glancing now and then at Stiles and Cora.

Stiles watched, feeling something ache in his chest as he watched Scott interact so easily with Isaac.

His “best bro” didn’t need him anymore.

And Stiles wasn’t sure on what to do.

A nudge brought him out from his musings and he glanced up, looking into Cora’s dark, smiling eyes.

She grinned and leaned, whispering conspiratorially, “Hey, Stiles.”

His heart continued to ache for a brother he lost, but…

“Yeah?” He could hear himself say, intent on listening to the younger Hale. 

Cora gazed at him thoughtfully, before she broke out into a warm grin. Pulling him closer, she patted him, her embrace almost a hug.

“I’m not Scott, and I’m not ever going to be like him,” she suddenly said, tone serious. “But…” She shrugged, trying to lighten the mood, but the moment was deep, meaningful. New. “One day, I hope you can accept me as a friend like how Scott was, and is.”

Stiles could feel his heart stop at her words.

He looked at her, as if seeing something new for the first time.

The first time he had met her, she was out of control, rampaging, wolf in heart and soul.

That was all just yesterday.

Friendships shouldn’t be made so fast, especially one that the two people met yesterday night. Especially when the first time they laid eyes on one another, she had been intent on ripping him to shreds.

But. That was her wolf side speaking, trapped and in pain that night.

The girl he was looking at now looked like any other teenager.

She wasn’t Scott. Could never be that lovable doofus. Could never replace the best friend he had all his life, the friend who had been loyal to him and he in turn back, the Patrick to his Spongebob. Stiles and Scott. Scott and Stiles.

She wasn’t Scott.

She was Cora Hale, the younger sister of Derek, and she gazed back at Stiles, dark eyes firm and unyielding in her previous statement.

And Stiles believed.

“Okay,” he answered softly, sealing the promise and striking his own. 

He knew he must look emotional and weak, stupid and flimsily human next to her supernatural form, but this was his heart, he bared it all to this promise. No matter what, he was going to keep the promise, keep it safe and strong.

Cora just smiled, as if she understood, and she leaned in again, embracing him fully for the first time in their new friendship.

**Author's Note:**

>  **EDIT:** Holy god. Just watched the new episode of Teen Wolf. Looking back on this, it... I am _cringing_ , at how 'wrong', OOC, and plot-tastically incorrect this chap turned out... But it _is_ fanfiction. And I can be more creative... Hmm...
> 
> What do you say, dear readers? Keep winging with this story the way it is or be more accurate to the TV show? 
> 
> I can probably combine both? IDEK. *flips table in frustration at self*


End file.
